The Second of May - Ten years after the BoH
by TheCrownprincessBride
Summary: A short story about the 2nd of May 2008 from the point of view of Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco, as it could have happened in canon. The last chapter, though, is a real treat for DRAMIONE shippers. :)
1. Chapter 1: Ginny

**A/N: Here's my new story to celebrate the New Year! A big thanks to my beta _Cecelia Everhart_! All mistakes you might find are my own.**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. This applies to all following chapters.

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1\. Ginny

In the night of the first May Ginny would always have a nightmare (no matter how many years had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts). It was as if all her inner walls were broken down and her subconscious lay raw and open, so that dark thoughts and memories could invade her and drag her down into the past. In her dreams, she would see many things, but what would make her scream, was a boy with unruly black hair and a scar on his forehead. This in itself wasn't a bad thing. Only that the boy was dead.

Harry Potter - dead and gone.

And when the realisation of that hit her with full force, she would wake up, a scream on her lips, frantically searching for something that should be there. Only after she touched a warm, breathing body beside her, could she calm down.

Even ten years later, exactly the same happened. She stifled her scream and felt for her husband beside her, but she only found a cold and empty bed. Panic-stricken she looked around. "H-harry?"

 _Why isn't he there? He should be there! Has something happened?_

Illogical thoughts raced through her mind, driven by the fear and the terror of her nightmare. "Lumos!" The dim light of her wand illuminated the bedroom, which seemed too dark and too forlorn without him in it. She wouldn't survive waking up here without him every day. Quickly she grabbed her dressing gown and left the room. The wooden floorboards were cold under her bare feet, when she crossed the hallway to her children's room. Silently she opened the door and peeked in.

There Harry was, standing over the newborn Lily Luna's crib. Her frantic heartbeat slowed at once and she wondered how a single person could have such an effect on her.

With his auror hearing he heard her entering and turned. "I thought I heard something," he whispered. "And …"

He didn't need to explain. Of course he would be worried on a night like this. "Shhh." Carefully, she wrapped her arms around him. "They're safe and fast asleep. Look at Jamie."

He nodded, but didn't move. "Did I scare you?"

She swallowed hard – he knew all too well about her nightmares. "I'm fine, darling."

"Sorry," he breathed nevertheless. He would always be sorry and beat himself up about things he had no control over; there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. So she only squeezed his hand and looked down at her baby daughter.

Minutes or maybe hours later – Ginny didn't really register the pass of time – Harry suddenly flinched, startling her out of her circling thoughts. "Oh, Gin, you're ice cold." At once, his gown was draped around her shoulders. "Go back to bed."

She glanced out of the window. "No. I won't be able to sleep anyway. The sun'll be up soon. I'm going to get dressed and prepare something for Al and Jamie."

When Harry didn't answer, she went back to the bedroom. Within seconds, she changed out of the pyjamas and went down to the kitchen where Kreacher welcomed her. Together they prepared breakfast for the kids. Kreacher would take care of them while she and Harry were gone.

The first sunrays illuminated the sky, when Harry descended as well, with Lily in his arms. "She's still sleeping."

Ginny nodded and scrutinised his face. As expected, he hadn't slept at all and looked pale and drawn. "Let's go," she said, following their yearly routine. As soon as the sun was up, they would gather at the burrow as neither of them was able to sleep. It was their day to grieve, as they couldn't grieve all the other days, because life had moved on. But that didn't mean they didn't still miss their friends and family members, just because they couldn't think about them or mourn them every day. So they had silently agreed that this would be the day where nobody had to be ashamed of being sad and moody. It was a day where they could lock themselves in their rooms if they wanted to be alone, or cry because the pain was just too much. A day they could remember the dead without feeling guilty, because they had moved on and lived a full life without them (and because the dead wouldn't want them to be sad on their behalf).

Quickly she grabbed Harry's hand – she never missed an opportunity to touch him on this day, to make sure he was real – and they apparated to the Burrow.


	2. Chapter 2: Harry

**A/N: Here's the second chapter, written from Harry's point of view. Thanks again to my beta _Cecelia Everhart_!**

 **Please review! ;)**

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2\. Harry

The lawn in front of the burrow was still wet from the never-ending rain of the last days. Harry carefully tried to avoid the deep, muddy puddles and sighed with relief when he reached solid ground. The kitchen was aglow with light and it chased the shadows of the night away. Ginny entered without hesitating, but he needed to take a deep breath to prepare himself for the faces and the atmosphere. He knew that this was a day of victory and that they should celebrate, but he just couldn't bring himself to it. He had to deliver a speech at the Hogwarts Memorial later and everyone expected it to be a cheerful one (since the war had been won), but how could he be cheerful and still remember the sacrifices of the war?

Finally he stepped into the warm and cosy kitchen. He noted thankfully that they were the first to arrive. Only Molly was bustling around, preparing breakfast.

"Oh, Harry, dear," she breathed and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Molly," he greeted her. "Can I help you with something?"

"No, no. Just sit and have a cuppa," she smiled and directed her wand – maybe a bit too forcefully – at a mug, which flew directly at Harry. He only just managed to catch it, before it hit him in the chest.

"Thanks," he muttered and sat beside Ginny, who had been watching her mother with concern. The elderly witch seemed normal enough, but her nervous movements and the brightness of her eyes gave her away.

"Morning, children," Arthur mumbled and sat down on the table. "Molly, is that Ron upstairs?"

"Yes. He arrived in the wee hours of the morning, asking if he could sleep in his old room," Molly explained absent-mindedly.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. Why would Ron stay here instead of his house with Hermione? The opening of the door interrupted their thoughts. A dripping wet Percy stumbled in.

"Am I late?" he panted.

"Um, no, Percy. We only just arrived ourselves," Harry muttered and watched Percy straighten his glasses and dry his hair with a spell. He looked a bit disorientated. "Something wrong?"

"No, no, I was just caught up at work," he mumbled and avoided Harry's gaze. "Excuse me."

Ginny sighed and exchanged another look with him. It was clear as day that Percy hadn't been at work, but at the place he would always visit on this day. Somewhere, where it seemed to be raining. Fred's grave. They knew it had been hard for Percy, having been in feud with his family for so long and then trying to reconcile. The guilt had eaten him up after the war. He had felt like he should have been the person to die and not Fred, because he considered himself the most useless of all the Weasleys. But, thank Merlin, he had Audrey now.

"Audrey's not coming, is she?" Ginny whispered, having had the same train of thoughts as Harry.

"She doesn't understand. She feels even more like an outsider," Harry whispered back and sipped his tea.

Sometimes even he felt like an outsider, like they should all hate him for the deaths he had caused. On a day like this he didn't know how to look anyone in the eyes. Suddenly his lack of sleep hit him and he swiftly stood up, before his eyes started to droop.

"I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in a flash."

Ginny raised her eyebrows, but nodded. Today it was okay to seek solitude. So he went out through the back door to watch the sunrise.

The same scenes played over and over in his head and the same faces lay dead on the ground. Unconsciously, he rubbed his scar, although it hadn't hurt for a long time. He wished he could go back and save some – all – of them, but he couldn't. He knew that it wasn't his fault, but the guilt still nagged on him. If Sirius could only see Harry's little son, who he had named after his Godfather, he would be so proud. If only Remus and Tonks could watch their son grow up. If only …

He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to think about it over and over again. Not even today. Today he wanted to remember the joy they had brought into his life and how thankful he was for their words and actions. That was what he was going to speak about in his speech.

When the sun had fully risen over the horizon, he turned and walked back to the house. Everyone would be there now. The people who loved him, even if he had brought them so much pain. Molly, who would run out and cry all of a sudden; Arthur, who would try to smile and comfort his wife; Bill and Fleur, who would tell Victoire about the meaning of her name; Charlie, who would look as if he would rather be back with the dragons, but didn't want to leave at the same time; Percy, who would stare into nothing and suddenly start to babble about something from the ministry; George, who dared everyone to look at him, because he couldn't stand the shy, scared, hurt, pitiful gazes; Angelina, who was the only one to return his gaze openly; Ron, who would lash out at everyone and then apologise the next second; Hermione, who would smile knowingly at him as she suppressed tears; and Ginny, who would be unusually quiet and cling to Harry's hand like her life depended on it.

He had been so frightened this morning, lying awake in his bed. He had thought that a step had creaked and someone had entered his children's room to murder them. But nobody had been there. If he could only protect them…

But he couldn't protect them from life, he knew that. The only thing he could give them was carefree childhood and a life without war or a dark lord.

Loud voices welcomed him, when he entered the burrow. One voice was clearly his wife's, screaming at another person. Alarmed, he drew his wand and dashed into the kitchen, but no Death Eater had invaded it and no curses flew around. There was only Ginny, her flaming red hair whipping around with every movement, screaming at Ron, who appeared to be something between angry and guilty, while the rest of the family followed the argument with big eyes.

"What's going on here?" he asked harshly and silence fell over the room.


	3. Chapter 3: Ron

**A/N: Another short-ish chapter. I think I captured Ron quite adequately. What do you think?**

 **Virtual chocolate to my beta _Cecelia Everhart_ for editing this story! ;)**

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3\. Ron

With a start Ron spun around to face Harry. The room was eerily quiet now, so he opened his mouth to explain, but his sister was faster.

"Ron was being complete nitwit. That's what happened," she huffed and crossed her arms. "He and Hermione had a fight and now he's being a stubborn prat."

"That's not true!" he contradicted. "It's not my fault that she's in a hell of a mood and doesn't want to see me!"

Before Ginny could reply, Harry said, "I don't get it. What happened?"

"Apparently our little Ronnikins had a stupid fight with his pregnant wife and she locked the bedroom door and wouldn't let him in. So he decided to stay here for the night," George explained, a slightly amused expression on his face. "Now he's too much of a coward to crawl back to her and ask for forgiveness."

"Shut up," Ron hissed. "It's none of your business."

"Did I hurt your manly pride, ickle Ronnikins?"

"That's not helping, George," Angelina interrupted. "Ron, just check on her."

"No!", he said stubbornly and flopped down onto a chair. He hated fighting with Hermione. Normally they would bicker a bit and then make up again, but last night had been different. She had been so angry with him that she threw him out and locked the door. When she had been pregnant with Rose, she hadn't been nearly that moody. In a huff, he had decided to leave her be and go somewhere else to sleep. He reckoned she would have calmed down in the morning.

"But the why isn't she here?" Ginny snarled, her hard, blazing look fixed on him.

He shrugged. "Maybe she slept in. She doesn't have nightmares anymore."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "You … idiot!" she yelled, searching for words, "Of course she still has nightmares."

"What? No!" It couldn't be true. Hermione never woke up screaming or thrashing like he did. She had been the one to comfort him after the war, almost never needing comfort herself. She had been the strong one. Even in the year following the war, she had never broken down or shut herself away. She had gone to Hogwarts, like nothing happened. Sometimes he had envied her. Of course she had slept badly sometimes, but not in the last few years.

"Arg!" Ginny threw her hands in the air. "Don't you two talk?"

He furrowed his brows. "Of course we do."

"And she hasn't told you? Oh Hermione," Ginny sighed and fell back on her chair.

"Gin?" Harry asked concerned. "What do you know what we don't know?"

Ginny blinked and glanced around. Everyone hung on to her every word. "Well, she let it slip that she's been having strange, terrifying dreams, since she became pregnant … ever since March …" Ginny's voice trailed away.

"What?" Ron gasped. How could he not have noticed? Why wouldn't she tell him?

"Ron. Hermione might be strong, but she still needs you. And you left her all alone because of that stupid fight," Ginny whispered and leaned against Harry, as if all her strength had left her.

"But …" His thoughts raced. What had she been dreaming of? Why hadn't he noticed how tired she had been? Why hadn't he stayed last night?

"Come on, Ron. We'll check on her," Harry offered. "Maybe she's really still sleeping."

Ron nodded, but didn't believe a word of it. He had been so consumed with the anniversary that he had forgotten the things she had went through during the war. He hated this day so much. Everything would remind him of his brother and that he hadn't been able to save him. It would crush all the good things – the victory, the kiss with Hermione. But then, all of a sudden, he would feel as light as a feather, because the war was over, no dark lord was looming over them, and he had a great job, a loving wife, and now a cute daughter. He hated the highs and the lows of this day. Sometimes, he would think that he didn't deserve the Order of Merlin for any of it, but then he would be proud and enjoy the fame, telling everyone who wanted to hear it about their adventures.

Hermione had been the balancing force in all this. And now, she was having problems herself and didn't tell him about it, because she knew how hard it was for him, and she probably hadn't wanted to burden him with it. Stubborn woman! She was just as headstrong as he was.

Suddenly full of worry, he rushed to the fireplace and flooed over to their house.

"Hermione?"

A second later Harry stumbled out after him. "And?"

"It's so quiet," Ron whispered. "Listen."

" _Homenum revelio_ ," Harry muttered, at once in auror mode. Nothing happened. "She's not here."

Although Ron knew that his friend was right, he rushed to their bedroom and found it empty. "Rose?" he called and sprinted to the other bedroom.

"She's gone as well" Harry said, having already checked Rose's room.

"But … where could they have gone?"

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 **Review - pretty please with cherries on top! ;)**


	4. Chapter 4: Hermione

**A/N: Here's the penultimate chapter. Thanks to my beta _Cecelia Everhart_. ;)**

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4\. Hermione

 _A few hours before_

Hermione had fallen asleep, totally exhausted from her fight with Ron, but had woken up only a few hours later. She wouldn't call her dreams nightmares, but they weren't happy dreams either. They seldom were pure flashbacks but mostly a mix of present, past, and future. She had seen a grown up version of Rose together with a blond boy, but suddenly Bellatrix had appeared and … she shuddered automatically. After that she knew she couldn't fall asleep again, so she crossed the hallway to her daughter's room and cradled her on her lap. Ron hadn't been in the bed with her and no sounds came from downstairs. That meant he had left. She had driven him away.

The house always felt so incredibly cold and hostile to her on a night like this. Slowly she put some clothes on and decided to leave it. She knew where Ron had gone, but she didn't feel like facing him now. She probably had overreacted last night, but she was so exhausted from work and the lack of sleep and the pregnancy. She wished the morning sickness would stay a morning sickness like it had with Rose.

What if Ron would decide he had enough? He couldn't leave her again, like he had during the Horcrux hunt! Automatically fear washed through her veins and made her gasp for air. She desperately needed to talk to someone, but who would understand?

Her gaze fell on a photo of the _Order of the Phoenix_ on the wall and pink hair caught her eye. How had Tonks managed everything – the pregnancy, the war, the death of her father, the disappearance of Remus? She had never had that strong of a connection to her, but Hermione suddenly felt that she needed to talk to her, because only she would have known what to do. Maybe there was some secret she could have revealed to her – how to be so strong, how to handle that little human growing inside your belly. Ginny wasn't the one she could go to, because the whole pregnancy thing had been easy for her. She didn't understand.

But she couldn't talk to Tonks either, because … Hermione closed her eyes and chased the image away. She didn't want to see any dead bodies today. But … who else could she talk to?

 _Andromeda_! The thought flashed through her mind and suddenly she knew it was the right decision. The older woman would be up without doubt, since this was the day her daughter had died. Maybe she would have some wise words to share.

Without thinking, she grabbed Rose and flooed over to Andromeda's. The black haired woman looked startled when Hermione tumbled out of the fireplace.

"Hermione? Is something wrong?" she asked, her wand in her hand in seconds.

"No. No, Andromeda. I just … I just didn't know where to go," she tried to explain and grabbed a chair for support. The floo had made her feel a little dizzy.

The expression on Andromeda's face softened. "Come sit. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please. How's Teddy?"

"Sound asleep," the older witch mumbled and put a mug in front of her. "Tell me what's wrong."

Hermione sighed and fixated her gaze on the table. Something pink caught her eye. "I don't … I'm sorry …" She hadn't noticed the photos on the table before, now it was too late. "I didn't want to disturb …"

"You don't. It's nice to have some company. And you are here to talk obviously, so talk."

Hermione shook her head. "Just … tell me about her. How did she handle …you know, the pregnancy and … Remus … and everything?"

Andromeda's narrowed her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I can't handle it … anything. I'm not strong enough. I just … suddenly missed her so badly." A hard sob escaped Hermione's lips. "This pregnancy is different. And I've been thinking that maybe this child is different. And I wanted to ask her … how …" Her voice trailed into nothing and she clutched the mug desperately.

"What's going on?" Andromeda asked gently and it was her soft voice that made all the barriers inside Hermione crack. She poured her whole heart out to the older woman, who indeed had some wise words to share.

"Don't be afraid, Hermione. You know you're strong and you know Ron loves you. Don't let those dreams make you doubt yourself," Andromeda advised warmly and refilled her mug with a wink of her wand. "You might be right that this child is different, special, but that's not a bad thing. Talk to Ron about it. He'll be there for you. Trust me." A sad smile flickered across her face. "That's what I told Dora and it worked out just fine."

"Thank you, Andromeda," Hermione whispered sincerely and took one of the pictures. "That's from the wedding, isn't it?"

The two women talked and reminisced until the silver light of a new morning illuminated the kitchen, but neither of them noticed. They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

Surprised, Hermione looked up. "Let me get that," she offered quickly and hurried to the door. Who could that be? Harry maybe? But he would be at the Burrow. Curiously she turned the doorknob and opened the door.

In front of her stood Draco Malfoy.

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 **Next chapter: Draco! (possibly the best chapter of this fic)**

 **Please, review!**


	5. Chapter 5: Draco

**A/N: Here it is - the final chapter. I realised that I love writing from Draco's PoV. And I hope it'll satisfy all you Dramione shippers! I'm thinking about writing a sequel, which would be set 25 years after the Battle, with Ron and Hermione splitting up, some Scorpius-Rose and of course Dramione... what do you think?**

 **Anyway, thanks to my great beta _Cecelia Everhart_ for putting so much work in this fic.**

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5\. Draco Malfoy

Draco woke up alone and covered in cold sweat. He didn't specifically remember his dream, but he knew what it had been about. After all, today was the second of May. Today the past would haunt him more fiercely than usual. Absent-mindedly his fingers traced the outlines of the shadow on his left forearm. Then, he got up. He wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

"Tory?" he asked softly, but then remembered that his wife and son had gone on a holiday to France with the Greengrass family. Draco hadn't gone with them because he hadn't wanted to run from this day. It would come anyway, in France or in England. He wasn't a coward anymore. He would face this day, with all the memories, and the pain, and the fear. He would attend the memorial and watch Potter speak, he would wear his Dark Mark publicly because everyone knew about it anyway, and he would visit the graves of the fallen.

With a determined expression on his face he showered and dressed, then went downstairs to have some tea. It didn't surprise him to find his mother in the breakfast room. They didn't exchange many words; they didn't need to. His father was either still asleep or had locked himself in his office. Draco didn't care. Today wasn't about his father.

"Would you like to visit my sister with me?" his mother asked tentatively. His eyes snapped up towards her. He knew that she and Andromeda had reconciled since the war, but he hadn't seen her more than a few times over the last years.

"Let's go before father shows up," he said quickly. Lucius hadn't been a fan of reconciling with the outcast of the Black family, but Narcissa had had a mind of her own. She frankly hadn't cared about her husband's opinion.

Narcissa nodded silently and finished her tea. "Did you know her daughter?" Draco asked quietly, without looking at her.

"I saw her once when she was baby and later in the papers. I'm sorry we kept you away from her. Andromeda described her as a very lively and brave person," Narcissa answered in the same detached tone she always used, when she tried to conceal how much she cared. "I wished I had known her."

"Me too." Draco admitted quietly.

There wasn't anything left to say, so they got up and apparated to Andromeda's house.

"Edward is probably still sleeping," Narcissa warned him quickly, before he could ring the bell. Draco smiled inwardly about her refusal to use the kid's nickname _Teddy_. He had met him only once. He couldn't establish a relationship with him – even though they were related – because he doubted that Teddy's godfather would appreciate it. He stopped belonging to this family when he had decided to fight on a different side than them. But for his mother's sake he could still try.

He knocked sharply and waited for the door to be opened. To his surprise a young woman with curly hair and big brown eyes appeared. Her mouth fell open when she realised who stood in front of her. He found his voice much sooner and politely asked, "Good morning, Granger. May we come in?"

She raised her eyebrows and looked back to the kitchen. "It's Granger- _Weasley_ now, by the way. But I'm not sure if…"

"My sister won't mind," Narcissa said quickly and pushed the girl aside. With long strides, she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Calm down, Granger. We only want to visit my aunt and make sure she's okay," he explained and stepped in after his mother, purposefully ignoring her other last name.

"Fine," Hermione replied and closed the door. "Do you want some tea?"

"That'd be lovely," he said politely and had to repress his characteristic smirk. He didn't want them to fight in front of his mother and aunt. The kitchen was small but homely and he sat down beside his mother, who was already deep in conversation with Andromeda.

"Is that your daughter?" he asked curiously, pointing at the three-year old, and Granger nodded. "Rose."

"Rose," Draco repeated and stared down at the little girl, who had inherited her father's flaming red hair. "Where's Weasley?"

Granger flinched and put the mug forcefully on the table. "Not here. Please, excuse me." With that, she stormed out of the room.

Taken aback, Draco stared at his aunt. "Did I say something wrong?"

She shrugged. "Touchy topic. Welcome Draco."

"Maybe you should check on her," his mother suggested and looked pointedly at him. He sighed and stood up. "Fair enough."

He found her in the living room, staring out of the window. "I didn't mean to upset you, Granger."

She spun around and shrugged. "I overreacted."

He couldn't help but smile. They were quite good at hidden apologies. "So, how have you been?"

She raised one eyebrow. "You don't need to pretend to care."

"I'm just being polite," he answered smoothly. "Why do you think I don't care?"

She snorted and looked back out of the window. He had to admit that she suddenly fascinated him. He hadn't seen her for many years and she had grown into an accomplished witch and quite a good-looking woman. But she also reminded him strongly about whom he had been and the mistakes he had made in his life. But, of course, he couldn't tell her that. "I'd like to visit Nymphadora's grave. Would you accompany me?" he asked out of the blue.

Her gaze scrutinised him and he didn't know what she saw, but finally she nodded. "I wanted to go there anyway. Let me just get Rose."

A moment later, they apparated to a windy graveyard. Granger pulled her coat around her and marched purposefully over the muddy ground to a white gravestone.

 _Nymphadora & Remus Lupin_, he read silently.

"Do you miss her?" The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him today? Since when did he talk to Granger like that?

She gritted her teeth and nodded curtly, unable to speak. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not really knowing why he had uttered those words. He hoped she would understand that he didn't only mean he was sorry for her loss, but for everything that had happened to her.

She nodded again and stared down to the grave. "It was a long time ago," she finally muttered, barely audible. It was her way to tell him that she accepted the apology.

What a strange morning, he thought. Never in his wildest dreams he could have imagined this scene. But, if not today, when? After all, it was the second of May.

Suddenly he noticed a movement from the corner of his eyes and acted without thinking. He drew his wand and pushed Granger behind him. A silver stag appeared in front of him and spoke with a familiar voice. "Hermione, where are you? Are you okay? Come home."

Hermione stepped out from behind him and watched the stag disappear. "I need to go."

He frowned. "Did something happen?" She looked a bit pale and her fingers trembled.

"No." She straightened herself und put her chin up. "Just something I need to do, but it scares me."

"You don't need to be scared. There's nothing you can't survive, can't get through."

She blinked at him, gobsmacked. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's true. You are so much stronger and braver than I am, and even I'll survive this day" he said, without looking at her.

"Draco?"

Had she just used his first name? Automatically he searched her gaze. "Yes?" he asked hoarsely.

"Don't let the past get you down. Don't listen to what the people say. Just … be your usual arrogant Malfoy self and nothing can hurt you," she smiled. "I'll see you at the memorial." She offered him her hand and he shook it without hesitation, still a little dumbfounded by her speech.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he murmured huskily.

She winked at him, then turned on the spot and vanished. He stared at the ground, where she had just been standing, and wondered if it had really happened. Since when were Hermione – _Granger_ – and he civil too each other, even friendly?

"It must be the day," he conjectured finally, but the feeling wouldn't leave him that he was going to see a lot more of her in the future. The blond wizard glanced one last time at the grave, and then disapparated as well.

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 **So, I hope you enjoyed my version of the "tenth anniversary". Please, leave me your thoughts!**

 **And I'd be really happy about some title suggestions :P I think mine is way too long and quite boring, but I suck at story titles. So thanks in advance...**

 **xxx  
CrownprincessBride**


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